


and miles to go before i sleep

by sleep_247



Category: Banana Fish
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_247/pseuds/sleep_247
Summary: Diagnosed with a disease that seemingly robs away his future, Eiji leaves his home in Izumo to try rehabilitation in Tokyo's hospitals.In a chance encounter with Tokyo's rumored leader of high school delinquents, Eiji rediscovers what it means to live, one shutter click at a time.





	1. prologue- all trips begin with a fall

**Author's Note:**

> so.... after being emotionally compromised by binge-reading Banana Fish in a span of two days, i've jumped to write this out. a thank you to the person who dragged me into this and will now make me suffer waiting for the anime to come out sometime in 2018.............. 
> 
> anyway, some of the settings/background of the characters have been modified to fit with this particular AU. :')

Shunichi nervously drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Buckled next to him in the passenger seat, Eiji fiddles with an old Canon camera in his lap. The well-worn device is Shunichi’s old SLR from his high school years that had seen better days; although the photojournalist had offered to lend the 17-year old one of his DSLRs from work, Eiji only shook his head, pale fingers tracing the scratched, plastic body of the AE-1. 

_“For where I’m headed, this one... is good enough.”_

Eiji had given him a smile then, touching lightly at the gauze bandages plastered over his chin. 

Shunichi couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Rather, what words could he have offered? Okumura Eiji— the son of a family friend, a dedicated student and a promising pole vaulter attracting scouts from universities for his performance— 

—when he had heard the news of Eiji’s condition roughly two months ago from Okumura-san, Shunichi was at a loss for words. 

_“Eiji… we found something was off, when he fell on his face two days ago.”_ Eiji’s mother had murmured over the phone, as if she was relaying an unspoken secret. In a way, it was. _“We were so shocked— Eiji, he’s an athletic boy, he should have been able to break his fall with his hands, but he just—”_

A muffled sob carried over the line.

 _“He’s been diagnosed with spinocerebellar ataxia. The doctors say there is no recovery— only the alleviation of the symptoms, but....”_

Eiji’s mother had trailed off then, unable to continue, but Shunichi knew of the implications.

_A delay of the inevitable._

Drawing back to the present moment, the photojournalist closes his eyes.

While not all types of spinocerebellar degeneration would result in severe disability, the reality of continuous, irreversible deterioration of motor control had resolutely shut down Eiji’s career as a pole vaulter. A harsh pill of truth to swallow, for such a young boy, to accept that he would be unable to achieve his dreams, much less perform the daily actions he had taken for granted without assistance… 

“Ibe-san.”

The older man starts with a jolt when the young boy calls for his attention. He hears Eiji muffle a snort. If the youth notices that Shunichi’s gaze briefly lingers over the spot on his chin— the one that had healed since his rather graphic fall two months ago— before meeting his eyes, he makes no note of it. 

“Ei-chan,” Shunichi attempts to compose himself with a forced cough, “what is it?” 

Eiji ducks his head, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Are you alright?” 

Shunichi feels himself turn red in embarrassment. To think, he was still getting consoled….! 

“...I’m that transparent, huh.” The photojournalist replies sheepishly. 

The black-haired youth remains silent, and Shunichi is partially grateful for it. 

“Coming with me to Tokyo…” The older man grips the steering wheel tight. “Are you… positive? Do you want to change your mind about leaving?” 

_Are you okay leaving behind the people you love?_ Shunichi swallows this question down, but he has a feeling the perceptive youth already knew what he really wanted to ask. 

Eiji gives him a slight shrug. 

“It would… only be for a year at most. At this point, I don’t think there’s much to lose in trying out rehabilitation at the hospitals in Tokyo.” 

Eiji flashes him a small grin, and Shunichi flushes, feeling ashamed at his lack of resolve compared to the young teenager. 

The young boy continues, quiet enough that Shunichi thinks it is not meant for anyone to hear—

“If I look back… I feel like I will not be able to move forward.” 

Eiji turns to look through the side window then, hands clenching the camera in his hands. The boy’s shoulders tremble slightly, the only indication of his true feelings; Shunichi is reminded then, of how small Eiji is in that vulnerable moment, away from the concerned eyes of his friends and family. 

Wordlessly, the older man shifts the car’s gears, and drives out towards Izumo Airport. 

_April 5th._

Under the watery sunlight that seemed to reflect their hearts, the pair head for Tokyo.


	2. transfer student blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's rough being a transfer student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will banana fish get more love

_Takanawa High School._

The gold lettering embossed on the black name plate feels imposing. Perhaps the apprehension about his new school shows on Eiji’s face, because Ibe rests a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“We’re a bit late to the opening ceremony, but your homeroom teacher should be understanding. I’m afraid I can’t accompany you to the staff room, but a friend of mine teaches English here; he should be able to help you out.” 

Ibe takes out a small notepad from his back pocket, scribbling on it with a stubby pencil. When the older man rips out the page and hands it to Eiji, the boy can make out the words, _Max Glenreed,_ inscribed on faded blue lines. 

“You have your cellphone with you, right?” 

Eiji nods, adjusting the shoulder straps of his bag. Ibe gives him an apologetic smile in response. 

“Give me a call after school ends. I’ll come pick you up for your check up.” With this, the photojournalist gives Eiji one last pat on the back, before ducking into his car. 

The young teen shuffles a bit on the spot, lingering before the school’s gates. With the way he hobbled on his feet in order to move from place to place, arriving late for his registration may have been a blessing in disguise. A small part of him, a part he doesn’t really want to acknowledge, hopes that the staff won’t make him attend the entrance ceremony late. 

_Was he going to be okay?_

“Ei-chan!” 

Eiji turns around to see Ibe poking his head out of the side window. 

Upon meeting his eyes, the photojournalist gives him an exuberant thumbs up. 

Eiji feels the corner of his lips turn upward; lightly touching the camera hanging from his neck for comfort, he steps past the iron gates into the school grounds.

* * *

When Shunichi had called him for a personal favor, Max had agreed, partially curious about whatever pressing concerns ailed his old friend. The two had worked together during Max’s days of investigative journaling in the States, keeping in touch despite moving on their separate ways in the years after. 

_“I need your help, Max… it’s about—”_

“Let’s see… third year transfer student, admitted to Takanawa on a special case…. You’re Shunichi’s kid, aren’t you?” 

Dark brown eyes peer at him from beneath shaggy bangs. 

“You are… Max Glenreed?” The boy asks quietly, fidgeting with a scrap of paper in his hands. 

Max swallows down a sigh. _‘Special case’, all right._

Setting down the transfer student’s files on his desk, the journalist-turned-English teacher rolls his shoulders back, willing the tension away. 

“That’s _Mr. Glenreed_ to you, kid. I’m your homeroom teacher for the year.” 

The boy’s eyes widen slightly, promptly bowing before him with folded hands. 

“Ah, I am sorry.” 

Max waves off the apology with a hand. “Save it. You’re new, no harm done. I’d be more worried about yourself, Eiji.” 

A shadowy look briefly crosses Eiji’s face, but the third-year remains silent. 

“I’m not gonna mince words here.” Max crosses his arms. “You’re transferring in at a time when the students are high-strung, with the pressure of upcoming entrance examinations and university applications. Your grades are good enough to justify your being accepted here, but the rest of your classmates will see you as a charity case if you can’t pull your own weight— even more so, because of your...” 

_“Mr. Glenreed.”_

Max jolts a little in his seat, caught off guard by the steel laced within the boy’s tone. The hairs on the back of his arms raise, when instead of dejected eyes, he is met with twin pools of molten anger. 

“I’m not an invalid.” Eiji’s hands tremble slightly, clenched at his sides. “I came to Tokyo with a purpose. I’d appreciate it if you would keep this in mind, sensei.”

There’s a moment of terse silence; Max is grateful that the entrance ceremony kept the rest of the teaching staff occupied, because he isn’t sure if he could bear this atmosphere with an audience. 

The English teacher clears his throat. 

“Of course. I’m—” 

“You don’t need to give me an apology you don’t mean.” The black-haired youth interjects quietly. Something in Eiji’s expression shutters off; following his chain of indiscretions, Max knows when to drop the subject. 

The older man rubs at the back of his neck, trying to quash the feelings of guilt crawling from the pit of his stomach. 

“Uh, right. That said, feel free to look around before the start of class. I won’t make you attend the entrance ceremony; not much you could offer the incoming students anyway, since you transferred in your third year.” 

The transfer student nods stiffly, walking out of the staff room. Only when the older man no longer hears the _thud thud_ of disjointed footsteps stumbling along the hallway, does he allow himself a small breath of relief. 

_What a bundle of fire,_ Max thinks to himself. _No wonder Shunichi is invested in this kid._

* * *

Eiji beats at his chest, willing the constriction he feels above his heart to ease. The short conversation he had with his supposed homeroom teacher left in him a sensation like that of having swallowed a hundred rancid potatoes at once, with no drink to pass down the lump caught in his throat— 

He blinks away the hot tears that well up in his eyes. 

_You came here knowing this would happen. Don’t let it get to you._

The school feels suffocating, and Eiji wants out. Maybe it’s the panic that slowly unfurls from his chest, thudding against his ribs in some manic rhythm; some terrible sense of urgency drives him to seek out the stairs, to clamber up in record speed, towards somewhere, _anywhere,_ but _here._

When his feet finally come to a stop, Eiji stands in front of the entrance to what he assumes is the school rooftop. The door barring his way appears old, scratched up with dried paint over metal. His hands linger hesitantly over the dented doorknob. 

_It’s probably locked,_ Eiji thinks, but something in him makes him reach out anyway, and turn the handle. 

To his surprise, the handle gives way. 

With some effort, Eiji manages to push the rusty door open, and is immediately greeted by the gentle warmth of the sun. Temporarily blinded from the sudden brightness, he stumbles onto the rooftop, his hands stretched out before him in a poor attempt to feel out his surroundings. 

When his sight comes to, Eiji finds himself frozen on the spot. 

A lanky teen rests against the railings across from him, arms folded loosely across his body. The way the sunlight scatters through the youth’s golden hair, seems to speckle fairy dust across his face. 

It’s strange, because Eiji had only recently taken up photography, but he thinks he kind of understands what Ibe-san meant— about staking one's life in chasing after a single, fleeting moment.

Like clockwork, he reaches for the camera hanging by his neck, adjusts the lens, and presses down the shutter button. 

The old device whirrs, emitting a high-pitched whine—

When the blonde’s eyes snap open, the world, Eiji thinks, seems to come to a standstill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo :') 
> 
> i... have no idea how fast i can update w/ school coming up around the corner but  
> /pumps fist  
> its my new years resolution to get this completed so give me ur strength friends  
> (echoes in an empty chamber)


	3. and this is just the first day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was white day yesterday but i've been too busy to write anything in particular. :') 
> 
> enjoy this small update in the meantime.

The boy across from Eiji looks poised to strike. The anger flashing in his eyes is the only indication of his true feelings from the otherwise languid, carefree way the blonde repositions himself against the guard railing.

Maybe it’s his lack of self-preservation, but Eiji finds himself staring, transfixed. 

“That’ll cost you.” 

“S-sorry?” 

The blonde gestures at the camera in Eiji’s grasp with a wave of his hand.

“The photo you just took. You took a picture of me, didn’t you?”

Eiji flushes— of course it was rude to take a photo without permission! How shameless— what was he even thinking (not at all, his mind helpfully supplies). 

Ducking his head, Eiji apologizes, willing the furious red blush that’s creeped up his ears to fade. 

“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. I will not develop the photo.”

The blonde frowns. 

“Did I fucking stutter? I said pay up.” 

“Y-yes!” 

Immediately, Eiji fumbles for his bag, fingers catching at the leather straps; when he finally frees his battered wallet from underneath a mess of notebooks, Eiji hesitates, looking in the boy’s direction. 

“Uhm… h...how much did you want? For, for the photo I mean….” He fidgets on the spot, unsure how to continue. 

The blonde narrows his eyes, silent as he gives Eiji a once-over. Something about the way his jade eyes linger over his face makes the transfer student flush a deeper shade of red.

“You’re not one of Yut-Lung’s kids, are you.” 

“Sorry?” 

At the look of confusion on Eiji’s face, the blonde sighs, the fight bleeding out of his shoulders. Whatever the teen had been looking for, he did not find it in Eiji— and subsequently, determined him as a non-threat. 

“Forget about it. What are you doing here?” The other student asks in measured tones, adding, “ ...all freshmen are required to attend orientation.”

“I… I transferred today. Third year. I got permission from Mr. Glenreed to look around the school grounds.” 

At this, the blonde quirks an eyebrow. 

“And you chose to come to the school rooftop? Knowing access is restricted— not exactly class president material, are we.” He sounds amused, and Eiji finds himself looking away. 

“Doesn’t that apply to you as well?” He mutters back, a little miffed. “What are you doing here?” 

Ignoring Eiji’s question, the blonde asks instead, “What’s your name, transfer student?” 

“Wait, you didn’t even answer—”

“Would you prefer I called you Pervert-kun? Stalker-san?” 

Suppressing a groan, Eiji mumbles, “Okumura. Okumura Eiji.”

“Eiji, then.” 

Eiji flushes, taken aback by the brazen address. 

“Uh—” 

His hesitant protest is silenced with a sharp look. “I don’t think you have a right to complain after candidly taking my photo.” 

“Hngh…” _Not much he could say to that._

“By the way, Eiji.” 

The blonde gives him a wry smile, tapping at his wristwatch. 

“Aren’t you going to be late for your first class?” 

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach— Eiji scrambles for his phone, panicking when the time did indicate the start of second period. How did time pass by so quickly—?

By the time Eiji rushes past the doors and hobbles down the stairs, he realizes he forgot to ask for the blonde-haired boy’s name. 

* * *

“Glad you could finally join us.” 

Mr. Glenreed addresses him with an unamused expression when Eiji slides open the classroom door. Looking at Eiji’s hand, he raises an eyebrow. “What do you have your wallet out for?” 

Some of the students snicker, and the boy flushes in response. “U-uhm—” 

His homeroom teacher waves him in with his attendance folder. 

“Never mind that. Transfer student, introduce yourself— haven’t got all day.” 

Eiji nods, walking up to the front of the class. He tries to ignore the way that his new classmates stare at the awkward shuffle, an offbeat rhythm to his steps that seems to mimic the pattern beating in his heart. 

Gathering a breath, Eiji squares his shoulders and faces the other students. 

“I’m Eiji Okumura, from Izumo. Although I’ve transferred in third year, I hope we can get along.” 

One of the students raises a hand. “Did your family move over to Tokyo?” 

Eiji shakes his head. “Uhm, no, I came here with a family friend. It’s just me.” At this, a couple students murmur. Eiji wills himself to breathe— it wasn’t as if he had committed a crime. There was no reason to panic. 

Another student calls out with a drawl, breaking his thoughts. “Eh, that’s kinda weird. Why’d you transfer now?” 

A boy with slicked back hair chimes in. “Does it have anything to do with the way you walk?” 

Mr. Glenreed snaps. “Frederick Arthur!” 

Arthur raises his hands. “Sorry, Eiji— I’m just teasing. No harm, no foul?” 

There’s a prickling feeling in the back of Eiji’s throat. He feels frozen, not sure how to answer, whether he should answer at all—

“Why’s it matter? He’s here now, and he’s our classmate.” The suffocating tension breaks when a bald boy pipes up from the middle row. “Keep yourself in check, Arthur,” he adds. 

Arthur snorts in response. 

“That’s enough, settle down.” Mr. Glenreed claps his hands for attention. “Eiji, go sit next to Shorter. He’s the one with the shaved head.” Shorter waves at him. The older man continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “Geez, if only you guys were this proactive in class. Anyway, open your textbook to page 63—” 

“Nice camera, by the way.” Shorter whispers to Eiji when the boy settles in the empty seat. 

“Th-thanks.” 

The bald-headed boy grins. “I haven’t seen anyone use an SLR in a while. You thinking of joining the Photography club?” 

Eiji shakes his head slightly. “I only picked up the camera recently; I think I’ll need some practice—”

His sentence is cut short with a bark from his homeroom teacher. “Eiji, do you want to stand out in the hall on your first day? And Shorter, pay attention— you were second-last in class for your grades last year.” 

The students snicker as Eiji ducks his head, staring at his notebook. That traitorous feeling, the one that misses his friends and family back home, creeps up in his chest.


End file.
